Slytherins in Doubt
by Lariawien
Summary: My two favorite Slytherins, each facing their own difficulties in life. New arrivals, new friendships, and old allies complicate matters. SS/OC. Poss. Eventual HP/DM.
1. Chapter One

A/N: I've been wanting to do a bit with my two favourite Slytherins for a while, so here goes.

DISCLAIMER:  Unfortunately, I did not come up with the idea.  I am not the one with the castle in Scotland.  That credit belongs to the genius that is JKR.

Note:  Severus' password, "Immerito" means unworthy.  I thought it was appropriate, at least for how he feels about himself.

**Chapter One**

            He stood in the hallway, frowning.  The brats had come back from their summer holidays.  After weeks of quiet, the castle was suddenly full of screaming, laughing, and generally annoying children.  One head stood out among the rest, quite simply because it was paler, several shades lighter than blonde.  He watched the boy closely.  He knew what was to have taken place over the holidays.  He prayed that it hadn't occurred.  

            The boy grimaced as he walked, and leaned briefly against the nearby wall.  However, before anyone less observant than the professor could have seen the pain, he forced his face into a familiar smirk.  The two bodyguards appeared behind him, idiotic grins plastered over their faces.  The boy straightened, grinned at them and made some snide comment about Granger.  They laughed hysterically, although the boy knew that his comment hadn't been terribly funny.  They followed him, always two steps behind.  They were not friends.  They would not walk beside him.

            The professor had been barely older than that boy when faced with the same choice.  All that he had seen is darkness.  Darkness had appealed to him then, when he had wanted little other than recognition.  Recognition was something he had never received in school.  He had never been popular, had never fit in.  His friendship had been refused from the very beginning by the three most influential boys in the school.  Intelligence had gotten him little.  The recognition of professors means naught to one ostracized by his peers.  At least the younger boy could have been considered popular.  Yet he also had no friends.  Had he made the same choice?

            He watched the three boys walk down the stairs toward their common room.  When the pale head disappeared into darkness, he turned and strode away in the other direction, his robes billowing behind him.  Albus was already standing on the steps when he entered through the great stone gargoyle that guarded the entrance to his quarters.

            "Well, Severus, my boy.  I'm assuming that you have news?"  he asked, sitting down behind his desk and reaching into the candydish.

            "The Dark Lord has given me a test."  Severus Snape drummed his fingers nervously on his  knee.  

            "Hmmm,  I thought that we were beyond that.  Has his trust in you slipped?"

            "No, but he wants me to become more involved."  Snape virtually spat out the last word.

            "I'm sure we can come up with a suitable ruse."  Albus smiled, "What would Riddle like for you to do this time?"

            "He wants me to make sure Potter will be unable to fight at graduation.  He wants to do the killing himself, to prove that he can."

            "Now that, I think, we can accomplish.  Lemon drop?"

            Snape shook his head.  "I thought perhaps an injury during quidditch.  Something that looked like a cursed broom?"

            "Of course.  I'll speak to Harry about it.  It will have to be the last game of the season then."

            Snape smiled, "Of course.  And Slytherin will win by default."

            "Perhaps, my boy.  Perhaps."  The headmaster made a mental note to change the game schedule.  He enjoyed the Griffindor-Slytherin matches too much to allow a default.  The other seekers just didn't offer Harry enough of a challenge.  "And young Malfoy?  How is he coping?"

            "He is hiding something."  Snape's expression softened slightly, "I cannot believe that he would take the mark.  I do not think that he would lower himself so."

            "One's parents can be a strong influence, Severus."

            "In wish he were my son, Albus.  He's not like Lucius, although he tries to be.  There is so much the same about us.  And yet, he is stronger, prouder than I ever was.  I think that he can withstand Voldemort if necessary."

            "Yes.  I have no doubt that he can.  But can he withstand Lucius?"  Albus watched the younger man as he began to pace the office.

            "Perhaps if I talked to him?  Explained that there are other options?"

            "It is not worth endangering your cover, Severus.  You could sacrifice your life by doing such.  Let the boy come to you."  Dumbledore shuffled some papers on the desk.  Snape knew him well enough to know that he was stalling.

            "There was something else I wished to discuss with you.  It's about the new Defense professor."

            "I noticed that there was no one in the seat at the feast.  Did he not show?"  Snape's lips twitched, nearly lifting in a smile of hope.

            "_She preferred to introduce herself to her students in a less public arena.  I wanted to ask you, Severus, to please make an attempt to at least be polite to this one."_

            "Why?  Afraid I'll hurt her feelings?"

            "No, son.  I'm afraid that she would hurt you."  Albus stood and stroked Fawkes, not meeting Snape's eyes as he explained, "She's rather dangerous, you see."

            Snape groaned, "Not another werewolf!"

            "No."

            "Let me guess, another half-giant, or better yet, a vampire.  And she tells you she doesn't drink human blood.  Albus, will you never learn?"

            "She is no vampire.  She is just as human as you and I, Severus."

            Snape looked at the headmaster doubtfully, "You honestly expect me to believe that an ordinary witch is a danger to me?"

            At this, Dumbledore smiled, "I never said, my boy, that she was an ordinary witch."

*****

            Draco dismissed his followers the moment he entered the dorm.  He didn't feel that he could keep up the pretence any longer, so he chose to use the summer potions essay as an excuse.  Homework, after all, was the magic word to get rid of the two louts.  He grabbed some books and left the dorm, heading toward the library.

            Halfway there, he met his head-of-house, striding down the hallway like an overgrown hawk.  He nodded to him, intending just to pass without conversation.  Snape, however, had different plans.  He stopped the boy, gently grabbing his robes to keep him from passing.  He looked at him closely.  

            "Good evening, professor.  Did you need something?"  Draco was somewhat unnerved by the expression on the older man's face.  Pity was something he could not abide.

            "Where are you going, Mr. Malfoy?"

            "To the library, sir, to finish your essay."

            "You should have finished that a month ago."  Snape frowned.  "Never mind.  Be back in your bed by curfew."

            "Yes sir."

            He watched the austere professor walk away before starting again on the trek to the library.  With no one in the hallway, he saw no need to hide his limp.

            Malfoy was unsurprised to find that Potter's mudblood girlfriend was in the library as well.  What did surprise him was that the Weasel was there, standing beside her chair, bouncing like an excited puppy and occasionally fetching a book at her request.

            He sat at a table alone, ignoring the frowns on the faces of the pair.  He had little to do, since he had already finished all of his summer homework.  The essay had just been an excuse to get away.  For lack of anything else to do, he pulled out a piece of parchment and began to write.

            At first, he was shocked at the ease with which the words came, but then he was pleased by the sense of release that the simple act of writing gave him.  He wrote a story which was only fiction on the surface, and beneath was nearly perfect autobiography.

            When he finished he had come to only one conclusion.  He was no Malfoy now.

            Reading over the story in disgust, he grimaced and balled it up, throwing it toward the trashcan as he left, but he missed.

            "Stupid git can't even pick up his own trash."  Ron remarked as Hermione bent to pick up the parchment.  She shook her head at her boyfriend.

            "Didn't you see the look on his face?"  Carefully, she smoothed the parchment out.  The story was written in a neat, if flowery, script.  Hermione began to read.   "Oh my…"  she said softly,  "Oh…my..."

            She folded the paper and put it into her pocket.  She couldn't allow Ron to read this, but she knew of someone else who should.

            "Come on, Ron, Harry's waiting."

*****

            Severus had seen Draco's limp.  He had only gone far enough to dissolve into the shadows before turning around to watch the boy walk away.  He mentally changed the lesson plan for that Friday's class.  Advanced Healing Potions would be useful.  He could not slip the boy a potion without blowing his cover, but he could make sure that Draco knew how to make them himself.

            "Immerito"  The hidden door to his quarters slid open.  For a man who seemed cold and hard, his living quarters seemed incongruously inviting.  The décor was green, naturally, but the sofa and chairs were stuffed almost beyond capacity and covered with green velvet pillows.  A fire flickered happily in the fireplace.  A painting of a raven blinked from above the mantle.  Soft music was drifting in from an unseen source.  A Bach concerto.  

            Snape walked over to the bookshelf and pulled out a bottle of Firewhiskey.  Without bothering to get a glass, he placed the bottle to his lips and took a long draught.  There are some types of pain that only liquor can cure.  He carried the bottle to the bathroom, which was entirely done in black marble.  He filled the tub and laid back in the scalding water, again tilting the bottle to his lips.  He promised himself that he would save the boy.  He would give him the chance that he had never had. 


	2. Chapter Two

A/N:  It isn't a common thing for me to get two chapters out at once, but this was going well.

DISCLAIMER:  No, unfortunately, I do not own the Potterverse.  But I promise I will put everyone back when I'm done playing with them.

**Chapter Two**

There was a new girl in the class.  It was strange that he hadn't noticed it before, but then, he had been preoccupied.  He noticed her now, if only because she was looking at him.  She was wearing green robes, definitely not a standard uniform.  And she was staring at him, which was getting annoying.  Her expression reminded him of the one Snape often wore when he was investigating something.

            _You did the right thing, Draco._

            The voice in his head surprised him.  He was almost certain it had been the girl, but when he looked up she was walking toward the front of the room, her back to him.  She sat there, on a corner of the professor's desk.  Her eyes ran over the rest of the room.

            "Good afternoon." She said, smiling, "I would like to introduce myself.  My name is Aislyn Morrigan.  I am your new Defense against the Dark Arts Professor."

            She ignored the stunned expressions on the faces of her students.  She knew all too well that she appeared much younger than she was, especially with her hair pulled back into a ponytail and her face devoid of all make-up.  It was a trait that had often been useful.

            "I understand from the headmaster that some of your former professors have been rather lax in their duties.  I fully intend to make up for that.  But first, you must come to understand something.  It is the one thing which is a true defense when faced with the dark arts."

            She stood, and began to pace before her class.

            "The Dark Arts, as you call them, are not inherently evil. They are part of a primal magic, much more difficult to control than that which you have been taught.  They are also quite easily twisted to the desires of the person using them.  The intentions of the caster are what make these magicks evil. And some of the spells, unfortunately, have recently come to be cast only with evil intentions.  However, it is one of these, supposedly evil, unforgivable curses, that could mean your salvation when faced with danger.  I will not be teaching you any of these curses, but before you can defend yourself against them, you must first learn not to fear them."

            With that, she had the class introduce themselves, and tell her what they had learned, and failed to learn, in the years before.

**********

            Snape's distaste for the new professor radiated off of him in waves.  He could not understand how a wisp of a girl was supposed to be a danger to him, much less how she could possibly have enough experience to teach a class to defend against Voldemort.

            It was all he could do to keep from grumbling at his dinner plate.  The girl was _smiling at him.  No, laughing.  She was definitely laughing at him.  Well, maybe not out loud, but he was certain that she must find something about him hilarious.  And dammit, he could not figure out what it was._

            Having had enough, he stood abruptly, but managed little other than knocking over his plate.  He watched in amazement as the plate, seemingly of its own accord, flew back up onto the table.  Not a bit of food was out of place.

            At the expression on his face, Professor Morrigan burst into a full belly-laugh.  Albus, having observed the entire interaction between the two, was laughing as well.

            "What's the matter, Professor Snape?" Aislyn drawled, "Never seen a plate fly?"

            Snape left, his robes swirling behind him, ignoring the howling laughter that had now infected the entire head table.  It was definitely not his best exit.

            "Aislyn, my dear, I do not believe that your little joke impressed our Severus."  Dumbledore said, his eyes twinkling.

            "Then the man needs a better sense of humour, Uncle Albie."

            Dumbledore leaned over and whispered into the young woman's ear.  "Were you able to get anything off of the Malfoy lad?"

            "Of course."  Her expression turned serious, "He's made the decision, Albus, but I'm unsure whether he will stand by it.  He is no deatheater, yet."

            "Anything else?"  the headmaster asked.

            "Nothing that I would be willing to tell, even to you."  She looked down at the boy sadly, "But much that he should come tell you himself.  Or perhaps Severus.  His father has him convinced that you're a bumbling old fool."

            "Even bumbling old fools can be helpful."  The headmaster replied, but he knew that it was probably best if the boy did seek Severus out.  Perhaps not so much for Draco's sake, but for Snape's.

**********

            Hermione pulled Harry away from the conversation at the table long enough to thrust a piece of parchment into his hand.

            "Don't let Ron see it!"

            Suspicious, he waited until he had finished dinner, and walked into the Entrance Hall to open the wrinkled story.  Once he had finished reading it, he stuffed it into his pocket and waited for his friends, who were no doubt delayed by Ron's bottomless pit of a stomach.  When they walked out of the Great Hall, he grabbed Hermione by the arm.

            "Who wrote this?" he whispered.

            "Who do you think?"  she gave him the classic Hermione 'you are a complete dunderhead' look.

            "Damn."

            "I know." Hermione patted him on the shoulder consolingly.  It's not easy to lose an enemy.

            "I'm showing this to Dumbledore."

            "I thought you would."

            Moments later, he was standing outside the familiar gargoyle statue.  Instead of racking his brain for names of muggle sweets, he waited.  The headmaster was still at dinner.

            He saw Snape rush by, scowling as usual, and not long afterwards Professors Dumbledore, Morrigan, and McGonagall walked up, all chuckling about some occurrence at dinner.  The new DADA professor had already caused one argument between Ron and Hermione, mainly stemming from the fact that Ron was having difficulties keeping his eyes to himself.

            "Did you need something, Harry?" the headmaster asked gently.

            "Yes sir.  Could I speak with you, please?"

            "Of course."

            McGonagall and Morrigan excused themselves and walked away together.  Dumbledore spoke the password, "marshmallow crème" and the statue slid back obediently.  Once in his office, Dumbledore sat and looked at Harry.

            "Questions, Harry?"

            "Um, not exactly sir."  He took out the parchment.  "Hermione found this in the library.  Malfoy dropped it."

            Dumbledore took the parchment and read over it quickly.

            "Did you read this, Harry?"

            Harry nodded.

            "Then you will attempt a more peaceful relationship with Mr. Malfoy in the future?

            "Yes, sir."

            "Very well, you may leave."

            Harry got up and walked out, his shoulders slumped.  Dumbledore smiled as he watched the boy leave, and then walked over to the fireplace.  Throwing some floo powder in, he said, "Severus, could you please come to my office?"

            After receiving an affirmative answer, he called someone else in as well.

**********

            Severus collapsed upon his couch, parchment in hand.  He hadn't noticed the small, emerald green serpent which had followed him from the headmaster's office.  It slithered over beneath the table and watched him closely.  He read over the story yet again.  He had no doubts that it was true.  The boy had been in pain, and now Snape knew that his guesses had been correct.

            What he hadn't realized was that, correct as his guesses had been, reality had been much worse.

                        _…not good enough, never good enough…Unworthy…_

_                        …Don't hit me anymore…_

_                        …Don't hurt me anymore…_

_                        …I'll do what you want…_

_                        …I can't do what you want…_

_                        …I don't want to kill him! … No!_

            Snippets from the story seemed to echo through his mind, from his past as well as his student's.  The snake slid up onto his chest, startling him, but it seemed to mean no harm.  He stroked its head softly.  It coiled up, laying its head on his chest.  The presence of the animal was soothing, and Snape drifted to sleep for the first time in weeks without the aid of alcohol.

            Just before he drifted to sleep, he thought he heard a voice tell him not to worry, that the boy would come to him in time.


	3. Chapter Three

A/N:  Hmm… There seem to be a large number of unregistered animagi running about lately…

DISCLAIMER: Of course I own none of this.  I'm just bored silly and decided to play with someone else's toys for a bit.

**Chapter Three**

            When he awoke, the serpent was gone.  He had half hoped that he had acquired a new pet.  Unfortunately it seemed that even the creatures closest to his own personality would deny his company.  And so the next month passed, as usual, except for the fact that there had been no summons.  As much as Snape dreaded the call, a long reprieve nearly always meant that Voldemort was planning something.  And it could always mean that he was suspected to be exactly what he was.  The next summons could always be his last, and Snape was worried.

            Apparently he wasn't the only one worried.  The headmaster had spoken to them seriously at the last staff meeting, proposing special classes in combat magic for certain hand-picked students.  As much as Snape agreed that the classes were necessary, he could not help but believe that they would come too late.

            And what was worse, Dumbledore wanted him to team up with Professor Morrigan to teach the classes.  Which, he believed, meant that he would end up being the one to carry the class alone.  There was no way that a young girl barely out of University could have enough experience to teach such a class.

            On Samhain afternoon, he sat reading a book, leaning back in the large leather chair that sat behind the desk in his private office.  It was a book of poems by a muggle author named Byron whose heroes often reminded him of himself.

            Or he was attempting to read the book.  He was interrupted by an all too familiar pain in his arm.  He stood reluctantly and headed out of the castle.  He met McGonagall on the way, and informed her, as discreetly as possible, of where he was going.  By the sad smile and nod that she gave him, he knew that she understood and would inform the headmaster.  He walked to just beyond the castle gates and apparated.

            The usual group were there, gathered in a circle around the fire.  Severus quickly glanced around, noting those that he could recognize even behind their masks.  Lucius Malfoy was already standing before the fiend, looking rather battered.  Snape had to struggle to suppress a smile.  At least this time, the punishment was being given to someone who deserved it.

            "You have failed me, Lucius."  Voldemort hissed, "Your ssson does not wish to join the fold.  You should have found a way to convince him."

            "I'm s-sorry, Master.  I tried.  I thought that he had learned everything.  He certainly does profess hatred of muggles, and his rivalry with the Potter boy…"

            "Excuses do not work, Lucius."  Voldemort smiled, "Your boy is too proud.  He does not know his place."

            "I tried, I tried to show him, to force him.  I tried bribery.  I tried torture."  At this, Snape's trademark frown grew.

            "Bring him to me."

            "Yes, of course, Master.  When he is out of school for Yule.  I will bring him."  Lucius kneeled, kissing Voldemort's robe.  Voldemort dismissed him with a wave of his hand and turned around.

            "Severusss, so glad you could make it."

            Snape made a short bow.

            "I need you to make some more potions.  I need enough to last another six months.  Then, I should need them no longer."

            Snape nodded, silently praying that this would be the only thing required of him.

            "Good.  And what news do you have for me this time?"

            "Dumbledore has hired a new Defense against the Dark Arts professor.  I have no doubt that she will be as much a failure as the others."  That, at least, was no lie.  "I have found a way to incapacitate the Potter boy at graduation."

            "Yesss, and that will be?"

            "A Quidditch accident.  The last match of the season.  The boy is known for his recklessness.  It will be no surprise to anyone if he should fall."

            Voldemort was pleased, fortunately.  For once, Snape would be allowed to leave relatively unharmed.  Voldemort quickly passed on to the next victim for the night.

************

            Draco awoke with a start, the nightmare already fading from his mind.  He was covered in a cold sweat, his throat raw from screaming.  He sat up and buried his face in his hands.

            It was a blessing for him to have his own room, but not for the reasons that others would have suspected.  The screams would not be heard.  He had not been surprised at receiving the honour of  Head Boy.  After all, only the Granger girl was able to surpass his grades.  Because of that, he held her in a sort of grudging respect, despite all of the insults that he had thrown her way.  It was not something that he would easily admit, but it was there.

            The nightmares were a nightly occurrence.  Afterwards, he was never able to get back to sleep.  Usually, he simply lay in bed, attempting to forget the memories that triggered such dreams.  He knew that he could easily brew some dreamless sleep, for Potions were where he truly excelled.  He had, after all, brewed enough healing potions over the last few weeks.  He even suspected that Snape had given that class specifically for that reason.   But, he would not do the same just for a night of sleep.  He had grown accustomed to the night terrors, and even had learned to enjoy the time after he inevitably woke up.  Those few quiet hours of the morning were the only moments when he could be himself.  He did not have to pretend to be everything that he had once so desperately wanted to be.  He wondered what had happened to the boy who had believed it such an honour to become a deatheater.  To follow in his father's footsteps.  The father who had tortured him, and _enjoyed_ it.  

            That night, looking into the mirror, he realized that the boy had been replaced by the man who knew the truth.  The steel grey eyes that looked back at him were no longer those of a child.  

**********

            "There should be carefully selected students from _every_ house."  Albus looked around the room, stopping for a minute to look meaningfully at Minerva McGonagall.  Any arguments she had intended were immediately stifled.  The monthly staff meeting had once again come down to this.

            "Very well," she agreed, albeit hesitantly, "You already know of those from my house that will be in the classes."

            The headmaster nodded, "Yes, yes.  But I would like to add Mr. Finnigan to that list.  If he can tear himself away from his social life, he could be a strong member of the team."

            Snape snorted, "That's a big if, Albus.  And I have strong objections to Weasley's participation."

            "But surely even you can understand the need, Severus!"  McGonagall argued, indignant.

            "You didn't let me finish."  Snape continued,   "While I do not believe that the boy is up to this level of magic, I realize that he and Potter are inseparable.  He will be in just as much danger.  Hopefully, Granger will be able to protect them both.  She, at least, has some measure of talent."  

            "Your objections are noted.  Who would you recommend from Slytherin."  Dumbledore asked, smiling.

            "With understandable reasons, there are only a few."  Snape looked momentarily guilty, "Even those who will not go to Voldemort's side have family connections that would make things difficult if these classes are to be kept secret.  Mr. Zabini is trustworthy enough.  And I would like to have Mr. Malfoy take the classes as well."

            "Of course."

            Snape was surprised at Dumbledore's ready agreement.  McGonagall shot out of her chair, shaking her head.

            "No, Albus.  We are not certain of Malfoy's allegiance yet.  It would be dangerous."

            Dumbledore looked over at Professor Morrigan, quirking an eyebrow in question.  She closed her eyes momentarily, before looking back at him and nodding.

            "Draco Malfoy will take the classes."  His voice did not allow for argument.

            "Hmph."  McGonagall sat back down in her chair, angry but silent.

            Three Hufflepuffs and five Ravenclaws were added to the list, and although Snape objected to at least one of the Hufflepuff group, he kept silent.  It was a young witch that did have some talent with medical magic, and would probably not be on the front lines when the time came.

            Just before the professors stood to leave, Snape cleared his throat.

            "I have one more objection to this."

            "And that is?"

            "Do I really have to teach with the aid of that girl?" he waved a hand in the direction of Professor Morrigan.

            "Yes, Severus." Albus smiled at him sympathetically, "Aislyn has expertise in certain areas that could prove useful.  I fear, my dear Severus, that in the end you may grow to appreciate her.  The other person that will be aiding you, however, may be more difficult for you to bear."

            Professor Morrigan grinned.

**********

            A familiar eagle owl perched on Draco's bed one night as he went up to get ready for bed.  Dreading the contents, he hesitated to open the letter that had been tied to its leg.  He was correct to do so.  In no uncertain terms, his father let him know that he would have one last chance.  He would be introduced to the Dark Lord at Yule.

            His hand shaking, he scribbled a short note and tied it to the owl's leg.

            _I'm not coming home._

            He knew that it would probably mean a death sentence.  He was sure of it the next morning when nearly the entire Slytherin table was swamped with owls, all bearing letters with the same crest.

**********

            Snape sat at his desk grading essays, laughing at loud at some of the stupidity found therein.  He had just found a particularly amusing example when the door to his office burst open.  Draco Malfoy ran in, closing the door behind him and promptly collapsing to the floor.

            Snape got to the boy as quickly as he could.

            "What happened! What's wrong, son?"

            "The mail came."  He shut his eyes against the pain.  "They know."

            He pulled the boy to his feet and helped him walk over to a chair.  His white-blonde hair was falling unkempt around his face.  A bruise was beginning to form around one eye.  His lip was bleeding.

            "Who did this to you?"  he asked, "Was it Potter?"

            Draco shook his head, "No." he looked at his professor, puzzled still over his rival's actions, "Potter stopped them."

            "Then who?"

            "Crabbe and Goyle.  They all got letters."  Draco lifted the sleeve of his robes, showing his arm.  It was bare.  "They know that I refused."

            Snape also pulled up the sleeve of his robes.  The mark was dark and angry, but not as inflamed as it could sometimes be.  "Do you know that I did not?"

            Draco nodded.  "I know that you're a spy, professor.  Dumbledore wouldn't hire a deatheater."

            Snape snorted, "You'd be surprised at what Dumbledore would hire."  He was thinking about Lupin, and most recently, the child that had set out to humiliate him from the moment she stepped into the castle.  "Come on.  We'd better get you to Poppy.  Think you can make it holding on to my arm?"

            Draco nodded again and stood, with difficulty.  He held the edge of the desk to keep from putting weight on his injured leg.  Even leaning, at seventeen, the boy stood several inches taller than his professor.  He looped an arm around the older man's neck.

            As they approached the Infirmary, they heard a rather loud argument taking place.  (A/N:  As if any words coming from Ron's mouth in a temper could be kept quiet.)

            "Bloody hell, Harry!  What were you thinking!"

            "He was in trouble Ron."

            "He's a Malfoy.  A _Malfoy!  He deserves to be beaten to a pulp!"_

            "No one deserves that."

            "Hmph."  Even Ron's snort spoke volumes of disbelief.  However, upon seeing Snape and Malfoy at the doorway, he prudently decided to keep his mouth shut.  Hermione's elbow in his ribs helped him do so.  Mme. Pomfrey walked over and shooed the couple out, pointing Draco to the bed beside Harry.  Snape led him over and left to speak with the medi-witch.

            "So you finally made it."  Harry looked over at the other boy, pity clear on his face.  "We couldn't find you after you ran off."

            "Sod off, Potter."  Pity would get him absolutely nowhere.

            "Good to know you're capable of gratitude."  Anger flared.  He had hoped that Malfoy would at least be polite.

            "Oh, my hero! Thank you dearly for saving the damsel in distress!" Draco pretended a swoon, speaking in a high falsetto.  "Is that more your taste, Scar-face?"

            "Are you going to be okay?"  He was still worried, despite the fact that Malfoy was being a git.

            "I'll be fine.  You've done your Griffindor good deed for the day."

            Deciding that attempting conversation with the Slytherin would be useless, he turned over and pretended to ignore him.  However, he listened closely as Mme Pomfrey examined the other boy.

            She tutted sadly as the diagnosing charm uncovered many more violent injuries than she had expected, as well as exposure to Cruciatus. 

            "My boy!  What have you done to yourself!  Some of these injuries are months old!"

            Harry thought he heard the other boy mumble "Father."

            "Oh you poor dear!  Well then, we will see that you're fixed up as good as new."  She patted him consolingly on the hand and walked away to get some potions, Malfoy glaring at her back.

            "Don't worry.  You get used to the mollycoddling."  Harry chuckled, "I'm fine.  Just needed some ice for my jaw.  But she insists on keeping me here because I'm supposedly 'fragile.'"

            Malfoy looked over to the other beds, assessing the damage to his two former thugs, both of which were still unconscious.

            "Did you do that?" he asked.

            "Yeah.  Well, with Ron's help."  Harry answered, "His reluctance to help you didn't extend to letting me get squashed."

            "Still, you did that, and Pomfrey thinks you're the fragile one?"

            "I had to learn to take care of myself.  You aren't the only one with family problems."  A darkness clouded Harry's eyes for a moment.

            "So you heard."  Malfoy had to fight the impulse to hide.  He certainly didn't need Potter knowing that he had been abused.

            "I suspected before."  He smiled at the other boy, "I knew Lucius was an evil prat.  And I knew that you were too proud to kneel at Voldie's feet."

            "Voldie?"  Draco smirked.

            Harry smiled.

            "It wasn't pride, Potter.  It was what they wanted me to do." Draco looked at the other boy, serious for a moment, "As much as I hate you, I can't help them kill you."

            "That's good to know."  Harry sighed, "My uncle used to do some pretty bad things to me too."  

            Draco quirked an eyebrow.  He'd never heard anything but how wonderful a life Potter had.

            "I know, doesn't fit the image.  But then, I never wanted the image to begin with."

            "Figures."

            "Dumbledore feels horrible about it.  He was the one who put me there to begin with.  In the end, they had to give me permission to use magic outside of school, purely to defend against them."

            "Why not move out?"

            "The wards.  Apparently, that house is the only place outside Hogwarts where I can be safe."

            "Then I guess that both of us will be looking forward to graduation.  We both get to be away from that."  Draco said, realizing for the first time that he could not depend on his family's finances to support him any longer.

            Mme. Pomfrey bustled in and administered a surprisingly large number of potions to Malfoy.  As the blonde laid back in his bed, drowsiness setting in, Harry spoke up again.

            "You know, Malfoy, we have actually managed to have a conversation without attempting to kill each other?  It was…nice."

            Malfoy grunted sleepily in reply, but he was smiling.

***********

            Draco awoke to find the sheet drawn between his and Harry's bed.  Voices were coming from the other side.  Whispers, as if they didn't want to be heard.

            "I worry about you, Harry."

            "Of course you do, but you don't have to be so overprotective."  Harry's voice replied.  "I'm seventeen years old.  I think I can take care of myself."

            A chuckle, then the stranger's voice.  "I think that you proved that much yesterday.  But you're still a boy.  And Lily and James would never forgive me if I let you start thinking you were an adult already."

            "You've been great.  But you can loosen the leash a bit, you know."

            "Dumbledore says it's all coming down on graduation."

            "Figures."  Malfoy could almost picture the other boy's disappointed face, "He wouldn't let me have one good, Voldie free memory here."

            "I'm staying." The deeper voice stated firmly.

            "Don't go getting yourself into trouble on my account."

            "It'll be safe.  Besides, Dumbledore has a job for me."

            "Only if you're sure.  I don't want to lose someone else."  Harry sighed.  The door to the Infirmary swung open, creaking a bit. Malfoy saw a flurry of movement behind the curtain.  It was whipped back, and Snape was looking down into his face.

            "How are you today, Mr. Malfoy?"

            Draco was too busy looking over at Harry's bed.  There was no one there but a shaggy black dog.  A shaggy black dog which was growling at his professor.  Harry looked slightly guilty.

            "Better, I think, Professor."  Malfoy finally answered Snape's question.

            "Good then.  Poppy says that you should be released in a few days."  Snape allowed a small smile, "Would you come to my office then?  We have some matters to discuss."

            "Yes sir."

            Snape looked over at Harry.  "What are you still doing here, Potter?  Mme. Pomfrey told you to leave in the morning."  He sneered at the dog, "I would suggest that you get yourself, and your _mutt, out of the Infirmary."_

            Harry grabbed the dog around the neck.  It looked as if it would launch itself at Snape at any moment.  "Yes, sir."  He pulled at the snarling dog, "Come _on, Snuffles."  He begged, pulling the dog to the door._

            Snape frowned, mumbling, "Some things never change."

            "What was that, Professor?"

            "Nothing, Mr. Malfoy.  I will have Mr. Zabini bring your schoolwork."

            "Thanks."

            Snape looked as if he were about to say something else, but instead he nodded and walked out.

**********

            The days passed, with punctual visits from Snape every morning, and the occasional visit from Blaise purely on the orders of Snape.  Surprisingly enough, Potter had also dropped in on occasion.  Despite the inevitable arguments that ensued each time, Malfoy had grown to look forward to the time spent with his rival.  The practice of trading insults became fun when they weren't actively trying to kill one another.  Dumbledore had stopped by once, but Malfoy had been uncomfortable with the gentle understanding of the aged wizard.   He had left a letter inviting him to take special classes in combat magic beginning after the holidays.  It sounded interesting.

            Finally, several days after the fight, he was released.  As promised, he walked straight toward the dungeons, to Snape's office.  Dumbledore had told him that Crabbe and Goyle were expelled.  However, Malfoy didn't put it past several of the other Slytherins to finish the job.  He didn't want to be caught in a deserted hallway again.

            Snape was in his office, a pot of tea and two teacups already set out.  He had been waiting.  He stood, and gesturing the boy to a seat, he glanced both ways outside the door before closing it and casting a silencing charm.  He was about to divulge secrets that could very easily get him killed if they were overheard.

            Malfoy raised an eyebrow, but let it pass.  Snape, more than anyone else, had the right to be a bit paranoid.

            "You wished to see me, sir?"

            Snape nodded, "I need to explain some things."  He took a deep breath, "You already said that you know I'm a spy."

            Draco smiled, "It was just a lucky guess.  If you hadn't been, I would have been dead the moment I burst through your door."

            "Quite."  He smiled proudly at the young man's intuition, "But you do understand that now you must also play a part in this act."

            "If you teach me, sir, I am willing become a spy as well."  Draco promised, misunderstanding Snape's words.

            Snape looked appalled at the thought.

            "No, son.  You've already been exposed to far too much danger as it is.  I simply meant that you must become part of my camouflage."  He poured himself a cup of tea, sipping slowly to allow time to gather his thoughts.  "I will have to treat you with a certain amount of scorn in the classroom, you understand."

            Draco nodded, "By now the whole school knows that I refused the Mark."

            "And they will expect the evil, deatheater Potions Master to hate you for doing so."

            "Of course."

            "Do you think that you can sit through a few unjustified detentions, Mr. Malfoy?"

            "I think that can be arranged."  Draco smirked, understanding.

            "Very well, then.  We are agreed."  Snape held a pale hand over the desk.  Draco shook it.  "Now, Mr. Malfoy, I do believe it is time for dinner."

            He shooed the boy out and waited for a few moments before heading to dinner himself.

**********

            "No, Sirius."  A playful laugh greeted Snape as he walked past one of the empty classrooms.  He recognized it immediately, simply because he had heard it often in the past weeks directed at him.  He hated being laughed at.

            "Aislyn, please?  For me?"

            Another tinkle of laughter.  Snape peeked in the doorway, curious.

            Sirius Black stood there, doing his level best to project a puppy-dog face at the new DADA professor.

            "You know that doesn't work on me."  She had tilted her head to the side.  Her hair was down today, falling in auburn ringlets to below her hips.  Snape found himself wondering how nice it would be to play with such hair.  Then he shook the thoughts from his mind.  She was just a child.  And she had _laughed at him._

            "I can't stay in Hogsmeade.  Do you know how humiliating it is to have to beg scraps from people?  And you get absolutely no decent conversation in the guise of a stray dog."

            "How boring it must be."  She looked as if she didn't believe a word.  She glanced up and caught Snape's eye.  Hers were twinkling.  It reminded him of Albus.

            "I want to be close to Harry, Aislyn.  Surely you understand that."

            She smiled then, and nodded, "Well, at least you finally admit the truth.  Very well then, you can stay in my quarters."  She reached up and cupped Black's cheek momentarily.  "But, Sirius…no drinking.  You're damned annoying when you're drunk.  And if Remus comes over…"        

            "We'll be good little puppies, ma'am."

            She grinned, and kissed Sirius on the cheek.  When Sirius straightened, he saw Snape standing in the doorway.  His playful expression immediately turned to an angry grimace.

            Snape sneered, "Robbing the cradle, are we, Black?"

            Sirius growled, his wand out.  "What would you know about it, Snape?  Have you ever had a date in your life?"

            Snape came into the room, his wand in hand as well.  "I've had enough to know that I prefer women to children."

            "Aislyn's no child."

            Snape snorted.  "No, I'm certain you made sure of that."

            Sirius and Snape flicked their wands simultaneously, but before the curses were uttered, both men were thrown against opposite walls, several feet from the ground.  Their wands were clasped tightly in one of Professor Morrigan's hands.  Her hair was bristling.

            "Now, if the two of you are done debating my age," she stated, her lips tight, "you can come down peaceably."  The two men nodded, still hanging from the walls.  Snape was angry, Sirius resigned.  Apparently he had been subjected to this treatment before.

            She smiled, and both men fell to the floor.  She gave them their wands, and whispered the password to her quarters into Black's ear.  He nodded and changed, bounding off down the hall.

            She placed her arm into the crook of Snape's elbow, surprising him.  "Now, Severus, could you please escort a lady to dinner?"  she chuckled, "And if you have any worries about 'robbing the cradle', you should know that I'm nearly thirty."

            Snape just nodded, still shocked at the experience of being hung from a stone wall.  The 'girl' had not used a wand.

**********

            Draco had initially sat at the end of the Slytherin table, as far from the Deatheater 'potentials' as possible.  Only a few of the Slytherins were willing to speak to him.  Blaise had come over only long enough to give him his homework.  Even those who would not become part of Voldemort's posse were too afraid of the others to show him any kindness.

            Sitting, as usual, facing the Griffindor table, he became aware of a whispered argument between its three most famous members.  The Boy-Who-Lived, and the Boy-Who-Lived's Friends were clearly having a moment of extreme disagreement, if the colour of Weasley's face were an indicator.  It was steadily becoming the same shade as his hair.  He had turned, arms crossed, away from Harry.  Hermione was pulling on his arm, apparently begging him to be reasonable.  Finally, Potter sat back and let out an exasperated sigh.  He stood up and shook his head, making a comment to Weasley before stalking away from the table.

            Draco readied his smirk, expecting the boy to leave the Great Hall due to the argument.  However, the smirk was soon replaced by a very convincing impression of a goldfish.  Harry had stopped at the Slytherin table.

            "Hi Mal-uh, Draco.  We kinda noticed that you were by yourself over here." He beckoned to the empty chairs at Draco's sides.  "We, well, Hermione and I at least, thought that you might want to come sit with us."

            His shock worn off, he raised an eyebrow at his rival, "Sorry, Potter.  I don't fancy being poisoned at the dinner table."

            "Almost everyone's promised to be nice."

            "It's the almost I'm worried about." He nodded at the very angry redhead.

            "Hermione can control Ron.  She's about the only one who can."  Harry grinned.

            Draco looked down his own table.  Almost everyone was glaring murderously in his direction. 

            "Perhaps you're right, Potter.  I'm more likely to be poisoned if I stay here." He looked dubiously at the pumpkin juice sitting before him.  He stood and followed Potter over to the Griffindor table.  Surprisingly, he got several welcoming smiles as he sat down.  Seamus moved down to sit beside him.

            "So, Malfoy, is it true?"

            "Is what true?"

            "Are you going to be a spy?"  He rubbed his hands together, obviously expecting plenty of juicy details.

            Draco laughed, genuinely laughed.  It was the first time that most of the Griffindors had seen a real smile on Malfoy's face.  Most looked a bit shocked that it was possible.

            "Use your head, Finnigan.  If I were a spy, would I tell the biggest gossip in Hogwarts?"  He smirked at the boy, "And do you honestly think that I would blow my cover by sitting with you lot?"

            "Why are you sitting here, Malfoy?"  Ron asked, frowning, "What would bring you to want to sit with Potty, Mudblood, and the Weasel?"

            "Because Potter was feeling charitable, and it's a hell of a lot friendlier with a bunch of people I hate who _aren't_ trying to kill me."

            "Maybe not yet."  Ron was pounding a fist into one hand.  Hermione laid a hand on his arm.

            "We are all relieved that you are on our side, Draco."  She said, smiling, "It just hasn't quite sunken in for all of us yet."

            Harry looked over at him, his green eyes sad and his voice as soft as usual, "I was afraid that I would end up having to kill you.  If it had come to that, I don't think I could have."

            The other Griffindors looked at their resident hero, shocked.  Even Ron ceased with the threatening gestures and stared wide-eyed at his friend.

            Draco understood.  After all, it was the same conclusion that had caused him to refuse his father in the first place.  He told them as much.

            Ron studied him for a moment.

            "You really didn't want to hurt Harry?"

            Draco nodded.

            "Oh.  Is it okay if I still think your dad's the spawn of Satan?"

            Draco smiled at that, if rather sadly.  "Weasley, I'd have to be inclined to agree with you on that count."  He looked down at his manicured fingernails.  The next bit was going to be difficult.

            "I'm sorry for everything I did.  It was just what Lucius told me to."  He grinned, "But you have to admit that some of the pranks were pretty cool."

            Ginny Weasley laughed, "Are you sure you aren't related to us?  You sound an awful lot like my brothers."

            "Oh no, I could never hold a candle to the twins." He admitted reluctantly.  The pair had become famous soon after they graduated for the success of their joke shop.  With that idea in mind, he asked, "Do you think they'd give me a job, though?  I seem to be suddenly out of an inheritance."

            Harry grinned, "Sorry, Draco.  Fred and George don't deal in sarcasm."

            Looking between Harry and Draco, Ron appeared to make a decision.  He surprised Draco by extending a hand over the table.

            "Ron Weasley.  I don't believe we've met."

            Draco shook his hand.  "Draco.  Just Draco.  Nice to meet you."

            Hermione rolled her eyes, giggling, "One name.  That is _so_ eighties."

            The muggle-born students at the table all laughed.  At the puzzled look on the faces of most of the others, Hermione launched into an explanation of muggle rock stars.

            Draco was beginning to have fun.  


	4. Chapter Four

A/N:  This is just a bit of Yule Eve angst for Snape and Yule day fluffiness for Draco.  Enjoy.

DISCLAIMER:  Nope.  Not mine.  

**Chapter Four**

            Yule was little more than a week away.  Draco had managed to field two more assassination attempts, both by more covert means than Crabbe and Goyle had chosen.  One was a trap triggered to spring upon his entering his room.  After that, Draco had been forced to endure the intrusion of several of the professors so that advanced wards could be placed on the room.  The other was by poison.  At that, Snape, of all people, had told him that it would probably be best if he sat at the Griffindor table permanently.

            He complained.  Most of the Griffindors were damned annoying.  But, after thinking over the benefits, he complied.  At least most of the group appeared to have forgiven him his past deeds, mainly due to the work of Potter.  He suspected that Dumbledore had assigned him the project.  After all, if the Golden Boy himself could forgive, what was there to keep the others from it?

            Oh, the two still fought.  Several of the arguments had nearly come to fisticuffs.  Yet, despite this, the old hatred was gone.  The arguments were, if not between friends, at least no longer between enemies.  Hermione, who had become a true friend, was pleased to see the tempers cool.  She and Draco found much in common, particularly an obsession with schoolwork.  She was the first true friend that he had ever had.

            Snape had been unexpectedly kind as well, inquiring after his well-being and inviting him into his office to discuss life after Hogwarts.  The relationship filled an emptiness for the both of them.  Draco, who had struggled to make his father proud to no avail, now basked in the pride of his professor.  Snape saw much of himself in the boy, and the friendship was a means of redemption.  If he could keep the boy on the right track, perhaps he would be worthy of forgiveness for his past.  And they both needed a family.  They were both so very alone.

            Draco looked through a catalog dismally.  For the first time in his life, he actually wanted to buy gifts for people.  And for the first time in his life, he had no money with which to do so.  He counted his meager savings and sighed.  He should have started saving his allowance the moment he realized that he could not follow in his father's path.  

            He chose instead to make his gifts.  The gesture would make obvious for all the fact that he could not give real gifts, but at least, this time, the gifts would be well thought out and not mere tokens.  He had some talent with a sketchpad and paintbrush, and he had an idea.

            So for the two weeks leading up to Yule he had been furiously sketching the subjects when they were least aware.  With his sketches to base the images on, he had been painting almost all night long for days.  For Hermione (and he supposed for Ron as well) he was painting a portrait of the couple together, looking rather sweet.  It had been difficult to catch them in such a manner because of their tendency to quarrel over the least tiny thing.  On Hermione's idea, Draco was copying, life size, a picture of Harry's parents from a school yearbook.  

            Yet, he had realized that painting a portrait for Snape would never work.  The only portrait he could think of would be a portrait of Snape himself, and the man was anything but vain.  He would not appreciate that gesture.  Instead, he chose to use part of his small savings to get Snape a pet.  Somehow, as if in a flash of divine inspiration, it came to him that Snape had always wanted a pet snake.

            He wondered briefly why divine inspiration had the same voice as his DADA professor.

**********

            Snape was being a Scrooge, as usual.   He had already told off Dumbledore's twit of a niece for attempting to get him under the mistletoe.  He was certain that she only wanted to humiliate him again.  Yet, despite his general anti-Yule cheer, he was happier than he had been in years.  He felt that he was doing something right for a change.

            Dumbledore had informed him that Draco had asked if he could be his temporary guardian.  The boy was seventeen, he would only need a guardian for about eight more months, but Snape was pleased.  Draco trusted him.  It was nice to know that someone other than Dumbledore was capable of that.

            And so he had ventured down to Hogsmeade to buy the first Yule gift that he had given for years.  Draco had told him how Lucius had refused to buy him a broom until he beat Potter at Quidditch.  Snape hoped that perhaps with a better broom, Draco might actually stand a chance.

            He would dearly love to see Potter go down.  It would be nearly as good as one of his favorite memories of being a student at Hogwarts.

            With that memory in mind, he smiled, completely forgetting that he was in front of a Hall full of students.  Those who noticed were completely baffled and slightly afraid at seeing the odd expression on their Potion Master's face.  He quickly replaced the smile with his traditional smirk.  It wouldn't do to have his students think of him as anything but evil.  He failed to notice the thoughtful expression on the face of one Ravenclaw girl.

**********

            The staff party was always held the night before the Yule Feast.  This year there was no Ball.  Dumbledore had thought that encouraging the students to go home for the holidays would be a good idea.  If Snape's information had been correct, some of the students may never see their families again.  The headmaster had even gone so far as to invite several families to join those students who would stay for the holidays.

            Snape sat morosely in the corner of the decorated staff room, nursing his brandy.  He was not looking forward to the large group of parents and siblings expected tomorrow. He particularly dreaded the arrival of the entire extended Weasley family.  His hopes for a quiet holiday were completely shattered. 

            "Mind if I join you?"  Aislyn asked, standing before him.  She had her hair down once again.  He silently wondered which god had blessed the child with such an abundance of it.  

            "Would it make a difference if I said no?"

            "Probably not." She answered and sat in the chair across from him.  She watched the activity of the party for several moments in silence.  Albus had asked one of the portraits to sing and the professors were beginning to dance.  She laughed a bit at the sight of tiny Professor Flitwick dancing with Madame Hooch.  

            A deep, silky voice roused her from her observations, "Why are you here?  Shouldn't you be spending your holiday with Black?"

            She looked back at her companion, her eyes twinkling, "Oh no.  Remus is visiting, I'm afraid.  I decided that I should allow Sirius his privacy, even if he is sleeping on my couch."

            Snape's forehead wrinkled a bit, displaying his confusion.  He had been certain that Black and this girl were together.

            "Of course," she continued, "They may have chosen to avail themselves of my bed since I'm not there."

            Snape's eyes widened slightly.  His mouth opened in a silent "Oh."

            Aislyn smiled, "Do you honestly think that Uncle Albus would allow a single, straight man stay in his only niece's bedroom?"

            "He certainly seems to allow a single, straight assistant headmistress to stay in his own bedroom easily enough." Snape gestured toward the party, where Albus and Minerva were dancing rather enthusiastically, "How on earth can a two hundred year old man move like that?"

            "I could show you how to get a forty year old man to move like that." Aislyn answered, but when Snape glanced her way in surprise, she was still looking at the party.  "You know, Severus, I used to have such a crush on McGonagall when I was in school here.  It shouldn't surprise me that Albus got there first."

            "Hooch is available.  But I've heard that her version of courtship can be brutal."  He rubbed at his shoulders.  He had been leaning over cauldrons a bit too much lately, and his back was killing him.  He watched Aislyn glance toward Madame Hooch, as if considering.  He was surprised to find that he was enjoying the conversation.  But then, for once, the girl wasn't laughing at him.  In fact, she seemed rather subdued.

            "It isn't Hooch that I'm interested in." At that, she looked back toward Severus.  He was oblivious, rubbing at one shoulder in obvious discomfort.

            Snape suddenly felt hands on his shoulders, but when he glanced around there was no one near him.  He looked at the woman across from him to find that she was watching him, her green eyes bright.  Then he remembered the flying plate, being held against a wall, and countless other tiny things.

            "You're telekinetic."

            _Among other things said a voice in his head.  He now knew beyond doubt that it was her._

            "So that's what Albus meant."

            She smiled at that, not letting her concentration slip.  The invisible massage was working.  Snape had begun to relax back into his chair.

            "Did he warn you that I could be dangerous?"

            Snape nodded.

            "Yes, well, sometimes my abilities are a bit difficult to control.  Imagine it combined with me before Hogwarts."

            "Untrained wizards have difficulty controlling their magic."  Snape said, understanding.  A witch and a psychic in one would be doubly dangerous.

            "Yes, when I got angry or excited, bad things tended to happen." She explained.  "I broke my mom's arm once.  Completely by accident."

            Albus was walking their way, a smile on his face, "Well, well.  It certainly is nice to see you two sharing a peaceful conversation for once."  He pulled them both out of their chairs, "Now, dance.  The both of you."

            Aislyn grinned, "I don't think that Severus enjoys dancing as much as we do, Uncle Albie."

            Severus, however, had been distracted.  His arm was burning.

            Dumbledore frowned when he saw the younger man clutch his arm, patting him on the shoulder consolingly.  Snape watched as Aislyn locked eyes with her uncle.  Obviously, a silent conversation was taking place.  The old man nodded to her sadly.

            "I have to go.  Now."  Snape closed his eyes briefly against the pain.

            "I understand, Severus.  Do what you must, but be careful."

            Aislyn had disappeared from his side.  He looked about, confused.  He felt Dumbledore slip something rather heavy into his pocket.  As he walked out of the castle, he noticed that the mysterious object was still moving, but didn't give it another thought.  It was probably some sort of odd protection talisman.  He apparated to Voldemort's call once again.

            There was no one there.  It was no Death Eater meeting.  Only he, Voldemort, and Wormtail stood in the room together.  Snape knew immediately that this was a trap.  He was as good as dead.  He was certain of it when he saw Voldemort send Wormtail out of the room.

            "Sssseveruss, our little spy."

            Snape was silent.  He knew better than to protest the accusation.  He was already surprised that he had lasted this long.

            "Imagine my surprise, Severus, when one of my young followers tells me that she has seen you having friendly conversation with one who has betrayed me.  That you visited him in the infirmary when he was ill. That she sees you buying a broom in Hogsmeade, and having the boy's name engraved on the handle.  A gift for a boy who has not only betrayed me, but made very public his allegiance to none other than Harry Potter!"

            Snape closed his eyes at that, realizing how careless he had been.  But he had been extraordinarily careful around those students who he knew would become Death Eaters.  He had to ask.  He had to know.

            "Who?"

            Voldemort waved at a corner of the room which was hidden in shadow.  Out stepped a fifth-year Ravenclaw girl.  One of the most genuinely nice, decent girls he had ever had the opportunity to teach.  Or at least he had believed so.

            "Go ahead, my dear." Voldemort said, "You can play with him if you wish."

            She raised her wand, her hand trembling, but her voice clear.  "Cruciatus."

            Snape's only thought as he fell to the ground was to wonder what he had done to make the girl hate him so.  Then, Voldemort raised his wand, and Snape found himself incapable of thought.  This continued until Snape lost consciousness.  Voldemort cast a spell to wake him, and began his torture again.

            No one in the small house noticed when an emerald green serpent slithered out of Snape's pocket.  It moved to the corner, turning back once to glance sadly at the man writhing on the floor.

            She had a plan.  If Voldemort believed that Snape was dead, he wouldn't have a chance to perform the Avada Kedavra.  And so, with all her might, Aislyn Morrigan made it appear that the man was having a heart attack.  When Voldemort bent down to check his pulse, she made sure that he believed that he felt nothing.

            Voldemort hissed, disappointed.

            "Well, I guess, my dear, that you will not get to try out another curse this time."  He turned around and walked toward a high backed chair that sat before the fireplace.  The girl sat beside him.

            The next part would be the most difficult.  Aislyn had to get Snape out of there, and she could not use magic in her animagus form.  She would have to reveal herself.  She changed and stood, pulling out her wand.  Even if he had not heard the words "Accio Snape," Voldemort could not help but see the body of the spy shoot across the floor toward her.  

            "Don't know why you want his body, girl.  The man's dead." He advanced upon her with his wand out.  She would have to get past the wards to apparate.  She cast a levitation spell on the 'corpse' and started with it down the hall.  Unfortunately, she couldn't move very fast and guide the body.

            She managed to dodge the spells sent her way by Voldemort, knowing him to be the greatest danger to her.  Unfortunately, she had forgotten to watch the girl, and she had managed to conjure something incredibly difficult to dodge.  Several knives flew out of thin air towards Aislyn.  There was no way to dodge them all and protect Snape's body at the same time.  She certainly couldn't use her talents to stop them and concentrate on dodging Voldemort's more harmful spells at the same time.  As the knives flew past, several caught her skin.  One buried itself in her thigh.  She stopped only long enough to pull the knife out, and limping past the wards, she apparated. 

            She was bleeding badly, but somehow managed to get Snape to his quarters.  She hoped that he hadn't changed the password from the time that she had snuck in behind him.  He hadn't.  She sighed as she watched the door open.  The password reflected the mind of the owner all too well.  Immerito.  Unworthy. She guided Snape's body to his bed before collapsing beside him, unconscious.

**********

            Snape awoke several hours before daybreak.  He was in pain, but it was no worse than he had felt before.  He wondered why he was still alive.  Then he noticed the other body in the bed with him.  And the dark stains on the bedspread.

            "Lumos"

            The girl was deathly pale, the stains were obviously blood.  Yet, with her dark robes, he could not tell where the blood was coming from.  There were a few scratches on her face, but nothing dangerous.  Hesitantly, he pulled her up and pulled off the robes.  Beneath them, she wore traditional muggle clothes, a tight sweater and jeans.  The majority of the blood was concentrated at one spot on her thigh.  The wound was deep, and if it had been only a couple of inches in another direction, it would have severed the femoral artery.  It was still seeping blood.  He did not question what the girl was doing in his bed.  The blood explained it all.  She had been the one to save him.

            He touched his wand to the wound and murmured a healing spell.  The wound closed, but Aislyn remained unconscious.  She had lost too much blood.  It would be a while before her body would replenish the supply.  He summoned a couple of house elves who promptly changed the bed, despite the fact that there were two people laying on the blankets.  Snape attempted to stand, intending to go sleep on the couch.  Unfortunately, his legs had not yet recovered enough to carry his weight.  He collapsed back to the bed, groaning.  There was a potion on his bedside table, but it would take time to work.  He downed the entire bottle and laid back down, exhausted by even that small task.

**********

            When he awoke the second time, he found that Aislyn had curled her arms around him.  She was beginning to get a bit more colour in her face.  He attempted to move the arm draped across his chest, but Aislyn's hand only gripped his robes tighter.  A tendril of auburn hair was curling against her face.  He gently pushed it back behind her ear, enjoying the silky softness of it.  He remembered what she had told him the night before, about her crush on Minerva.  He was really beginning to regret that this 'annoying twit' preferred women.

            But then, perhaps he was just being delusional due to the strangeness of having a woman in his bed with her arms around him.  He would never have ordinarily entertained fantasies about someone as unattainable as the woman-child beside him.  This was a circumstance that had not occurred in years.  Clearly, it was affecting his mental processes in some strange fashion.

            He was watching her when she finally opened her eyes.  Or rather, half opened them.  They were still veiled by impossibly long lashes.  

            "I hate mornings."  She blinked, yawned, and snuggled closer to him, as if to go back to sleep.  Then her eyes popped open again, "It's Yule!" She sat up abruptly after her announcement.

            "Surely, Professor Morrigan, you have outgrown such childish Yule morning excitement?  Besides,"  he looked her over with concern, "are you well?"

            "I'm healthy enough to enjoy a lazy winter afternoon, Severus.  And I'll never be too old for Yule."  She looked at the foot of the bed where several gifts sat awaiting them.  "Look!  They brought my presents down here too!"

            Snape snorted, looking at the rather large pile on the end of his bed, "They're probably all for you."

            "No, look, all of these are for you.  It seems that there are people out there who like you after all."  She shoved a rather large mound of gifts his way.  Snape noticed the tear in her jeans was revealing quite a bit of skin.  It was healed completely, thanks to the healing spell there was no scar.  The only evidence was the blood that still stained the cloth surrounding the area.  To avoid looking at that tempting bit of pale skin, he began opening the gifts that she had pushed his way.

            Albus had given him a pair of socks, just as he did every year.  Minerva had renewed his subscription to _Apothecary Today.  Hooch had sent him a rather rude novelty item and a copy of the revisions to the Quidditch rulebook in case he had to referee again.  In general, he was neither surprised nor particularly pleased by any of the gifts from the professors.  Until, that is, he came to Aislyn's gift.  It was a first-edition copy of Spenser's __The Faerie Queene._

            "How did you know that I enjoy Muggle literature?"

            She shrugged, "Lucky guess."  She wasn't about to tell him that she had already perused his bookshelves.

            Snape laughed, "You must have it easy.  You can't get anyone a bad gift, because you can read their minds to find out what they want."

            "I would never do that!"  She exclaimed, aghast that he would suspect her of such.

            "A Slytherin would."

            "I was a Gryffindor, thank you very much."  She smiled.

            "Figures."  He looked at her closely.  He didn't remember her from either his school days at Hogwarts or from his early years spent teaching.  She must have been at school here while he was working for Voldemort.  "How old did you say you were again?"

            "Twenty-eight."

            Snape nodded, he had been right.

            "You have another present there, Sev."

            He glared at her due to the unauthorized nickname, but moved to open the gift anyway.  This package had small holes in the lid.  He pulled it off to find a small snake inside.

            "Draco seems to share your talent for gift-giving."

            "He had some help." With a small pop, she turned into the emerald serpent that he remembered.  She hissed at the other snake, who promptly hissed back.  Another pop, and she was human once more.

            "His name is Tanzle."

            "Thank Merlin that you can do that.  I was afraid that I would have to ask Potter."  

            "He's not evil incarnate, you know.  He's just a boy."

            "He's a Potter."  Snape snarled.

            "James wasn't so bad either.  Harry looks just like him."  She said, thinking.  "Acts just like Lily, though, most of the time.  Always trying to save people from themselves."

            Snape looked a bit pained.  He knew all too well that the boy was much like his sainted mother.  "How did you know them?"

            "Lily was a friend.  She helped me out once when I needed it." Aislyn answered.

            "She helped everyone out at some point." 

            "Even you?"

            Snape nodded, but was silent.  

            "Come on, Severus.  We should make an appearance at breakfast.  Albus will be worried."  She picked her robes up, wrinkling her nose.  They were terribly torn and stained.  She cast a miniaturization spell on her gifts and scooped them into her robes, then tying them up like a bag.

            "You can't go into the hallway like that!"

            "Like what?"  She had her hands on her hips.

            "Your pants are torn."  He took his wand from the table and quickly repaired them.

            "It took you that long to figure out that I was showing my arse?"  She grinned, "Or did it just take you that long to tell me?"

***********

            Draco awoke to find a rather large pile of gifts on the trunk at the foot of his bed.  It seemed that the entire Griffindor population had chosen to give him something.  He supposed that he had either Hermione or Harry to thank for that.  He could just picture the little hero-boy telling them how everyone deserves a good holiday, no matter what.  He even had a rather hideous sweater and collection of baked goods from Weasley's mother!  It was nice of her, but honestly, that wool would just destroy his sensitive skin.

            Most of the gifts consisted of candy.  He eyed the contents of Ron's package rather suspiciously.  It looked all too much like some of his brothers' trick candy.  He put that aside to try on someone else later.  He wasn't about to eat it himself.  He opened Hermione's gift.  It was a broomstick servicing kit.  She had caught him admiring Potter's one afternoon.  He smiled and put that away beneath the bed.  Harry had given him something that looked, for all the world, like a snitch.  However, when he let it go the object just hovered a few inches above his bed.  He opened the letter that came with it.  Harry explained that it was a radio transfigured to look like a snitch.  All that he had to do was say "musica" and the type of music he preferred to listen to, and the radio would tune itself automatically.

            "Potter definitely has a thing for gadgets." He said to himself softly as he placed the snitch-radio on the table beside his bed and turned toward the largest package.  It was very obviously a broom.  A brand new Cirrus two-hundred.  And Potter was still on the old Firebolt from years ago.  Draco picked up the broom, intending to go thank Snape and then head out to fly.  However, there was a small package that had been lying beneath the broom.  It was wrapped in green and tied with silver string.  There was a letter beneath it.

            _My son,_

_            I am risking much by even attempting to give you this gift, but I wanted you to know that, despite your father's insistence that you are no longer our son, I will always love you.  You will always be my boy.  This ring has been passed down through my family for generations.  It will protect you in times of trouble.  Take it and wear it and think of your mother._

_            Narcissa_

            He opened the package.  The ring was platinum, with an emerald set into it and several words in Latin engraved into it.  He would have to ask Snape to translate them for him.  He slipped the ring onto his hand, thoughtfully.  It immediately shrank to fit his slender finger.  Realizing his hunger, he chose to leave flying for later and headed up to the Great Hall for breakfast.

**********

            The Great Hall was full.  Only the night before there had been so few students that everyone had eaten at one table together.  Today, there was barely room for everyone.  It seemed that the Gryffindor table had been completely taken over by redheads.  Draco counted quickly.  Nine redheads where normally there were only two.  He groaned, and turned to walk back out of the Hall.  He could get food from the kitchens easily enough.

            He ran straight into Harry.

            "Oh, no you don't!"  Harry grabbed Draco by the collar of his robes, pulling him to the table, "You're going to go in there and meet the Weasleys and the Grangers."

            "Why do I have to do such a thing?"  Draco complained.

            "Because for once I'm not the only boy without a family here, so the pity will be directed at you."

            "Are you sure you're not a Slytherin?"

            "I almost was."  He yanked one final time at the collar of Draco's robes, "Now, come on!" 

            Draco was immediately enveloped in a massive hug.  He peeked through Mrs. Weasley's arms to see Harry sniggering behind him.  

            "Oh you poor darling!  Harry told me all about it."  Mrs. Weasley kissed him on the cheek, and then immediately took a handkerchief and began wiping lipstick from his face.  Draco vowed that he would hurt Harry as soon as he got the chance.  This was the world's worst form of torture.

            He shook hands all around, but Arthur Weasley barely looked up.  He was too busy discussing television with Hermione's parents.  They looked a bit overwhelmed.

            He wound up squeezed between the twins.  As much as he admired their mischief making abilities, sitting between the two of them was impossible.  It was like attempting to carry on a conversation in stereo.  A sentence would begin on his left, and end on his right.  He had no idea where to look when answering them.

            "Alright there, Draco?"  A long-haired Weasley who introduced himself as Bill asked him.

            Draco's jaw dropped.  This man was cool. 

            "Perhaps you should let them sit together.  Gets a bit confusing otherwise.  Dangerous too."  Bill winked and moved over to make room for Draco on his side of the table.  Draco quickly moved himself across, relieved.  He didn't think he would have trusted anything on his plate if he were sitting that close to those two.

            "Of course," a girl spoke from behind him, "It may be just as dangerous to sit on this side of the table.  Bill has a weakness for blondes."  The girl was blonde herself.  She sat down in Bill's lap, quite simply because there was no where else to sit.

            "'ello, dear."  Bill smiled at the girl in his lap.

            "Hi, cutie."  She held a hand out to Draco, "I'm Sara, by the way.  Bill's fiancée."

            He shook the girl's hand, shaking his head at yet another name to remember.  

            "It won't work."  Harry said, laughing at Draco's obvious confusion.

            "What won't work?"

            "You'll have forgotten all of their names by sundown."

            "You do know you're dead, Potter." Draco threatened.

            "Oh yes.  Absolutely.  Feel free to kill me anytime."  Harry nodded in agreement, looking rather giddy.  Draco suspected that the twins had managed to spike the pumpkin juice.  This was definitely not a sober Harry.

            So, Draco cast the Tickling curse on him.  Harry fell from his seat, laughing and clutching his sides, begging Draco for mercy.

            "Well, that's more like it." Draco drawled.  He ended the curse and Harry crawled back into his seat, out of breath.

            Bill leaned over and whispered into Draco's ear.  "I don't think that was the 'death' that Harry was asking for."

            Draco had the grace to blush. 

**********

            Harry flying drunk was a sight to behold.  It was all Draco could do to keep from falling off his broom he was laughing so hard.  The two were playing Seeker as usual, but both teams were made up of the Weasleys and their various significant others.  After some coaxing, they had actually managed to get Hermione on a broom.  She wasn't a bad flyer, but it was fairly obvious that she believed that she was terrible.

            Ron hit a bludger his way, grinning happily when it came within only a few inches of Draco's head.

            "Sorry there, Malfoy."

            "I'm sure."  Draco watched Harry do a rather clumsy loop-de-loop, "Your friend's gonna fall off his broom."

            "Nah.  Even drunk, 'Arry's a great flyer."

            Draco arched his eyebrow dubiously, but Ron was already flying away.  He continued to watch the game, not really actively looking for the Snitch.  He was having too much fun watching the family competition.  For people who claimed to love one another, it was pretty brutal.  Apparently Gryffindors had no problem harming one another if it was for the sake of a sport.  Fred had already cursed Charlie, and the older man was flying in circles, frantically scratching, but yelling, "You'll get yours, Gred!"  Bill had flown by Ginny and lifted her off of her broom. He deposited her on the ground, leaving her to search for her runaway broom.  Ron grabbed Hermione by the waist and pulled her off to the corner of the pitch for a quick snog.  Percy was hovering, rather stiffly, beside his beau, Oliver Wood, who obviously was taking the role of Keeper far too seriously.  

            In short, it was Quidditch chaos.  Completely without rules.

            George flew up to Harry, grabbing his head and turning it toward the left.  Harry got a manic grin on his face.

            "I see the snitch! I see the snitch!" he sang, sounding like a child singing "Na-na-nah" and zoomed off.

            "Tra-la-la." Draco answered, smirking, and chasing after him.  Ron had been right, however.  Even drunk, Harry could fly well.  He caught the snitch and grinned, doing a little dance on his broomstick.  Draco hovered below him, shaking a fist.  Then Harry fell.  Straight onto Draco.  (A/N:  Hmm. _Straight_ onto Draco.  Bit of irony there?)

            Draco was, needless to say, surprised to find that he had an armful of Harry.

            "So now who's the hero?"  Harry asked, blinking up at him.

            Before Draco could think of a thing to say, Ron pulled up.

            "Malfoy, you will put down my Harry, NOW!"

            Hermione smacked Ron on the back of the head, "_Your_ Harry?  He's _our Harry!"  She smiled sweetly at Draco.  "And yes, you can put him down now."_

            Harry was watching the two of them in amusement.  He looked up at Draco, his expression full of mock seriousness,  "Wow.  I thought I was _Harry's Harry."  He turned around to straddle Draco's broom in front of him.  "And yes, Draco, you can put me down now."_

            Draco was wondering when he had walked (er, _flown) onto a set for the Three Stooges._

            It didn't help that, when he got to the ground, Bill once again whispered into his ear, "It rather looked like he was _Draco's_ Harry."

            Draco pushed Harry off of his broom.


	5. Chapter Five

DISCLAIMER:  Unfortunately for me, none of these characters are my creations.  If they were, they certainly wouldn't be classified as children's books.

**Chapter Five**

            Snape, having finally gotten rid of the girl, decided not to go to breakfast.  He rarely did.  He was sure that he could count on her to inform Albus that both were safe.  The serpent, Tanzle, wound itself about his arm.  He truly wished that he had Potter's gift, that he could speak to this animal.  He had always been fascinated by snakes.

            The girl had revealed her animagus form to him.  A snake.  The snake that he recognized from that night on the couch.  He was rather puzzled that a Gryffindor would have had such a form.  But then, for all of her fun-loving, disgustingly honourable nature, she had shown a rather calculating side of herself at times.  Perhaps every Gryffindor had an inner Slytherin.  It was something to consider.

            There was a knock at his door.  Only a few people actually knew that the hidden door was there.  It blended perfectly with the stonework of his office wall.  He waved a hand, and the door opened.

            "Hi, Sev."  Draco had taken to calling him by his first name when they were in private.  It was appropriate, he supposed, but he still hadn't gotten used to it.  Draco held his new broom in hand.  "Thanks for the broom." 

            "Perhaps you can best Potter on it."  Snape smiled.  The expression was beginning to feel almost familiar. "You certainly have always had the potential."

            Draco grinned.  He had found out that Snape had been quite a good player at school as well.  "Perhaps you could give me some pointers."

            "Perhaps."  Snape answered, "And thank you for the new pet."  He held up his arm, the snake coiled around it.  "Perhaps he can be our new mascot.  But really, you shouldn't have spent the money."

            Draco ignored the admonishment.  Snape deserved the gift.  "I'm going to go try the broom out.  The Weasley's want to play a pick-up match."  Draco leaned against the doorway, smirking, "And Potter's drunk off his arse."

            "This early in the morning?"

            "Thanks to the twins.  They did a spell on the milk, or so they say.  Didn't make anyone else tipsy, though."  Draco's grin widened.

            "Yes, well, his mother could always get drunk off a thimbleful." 

            "And how, Sev, would you know such a thing?"

            "Shouldn't you be headed toward the pitch?"  He attempted to dismiss the boy, but unfortunately Draco had gotten to know him too well.

            Draco nodded, but he wasn't about to let Snape off on this subject.  "I'll be back.  I want you to translate something on this ring mum gave me."  The light flashed green as Draco held up his hand, then the boy spun around and left.

            Snape had to struggle to close his mouth.  Even from this distance he had recognized the ring.  But it didn't explain why Narcissa Malfoy had possessed such a thing.  Or how she had kept it a secret from Lucius, for surely she had to have done that.  Otherwise, it wouldn't be on Draco's hand.  It would have been on Voldemort's.

            How had she acquired Salazar Slytherin's ring?

**********

            "So he knows."  Albus was gripping his cup of tea as if it would run away from him.  He had always feared for Severus during these missions and knew all too well how easily he could have been killed the night before.

            "Yes, he knows.  And I have a feeling we've lost a student."  Severus frowned.

            "Elisa Bainbridge.  Yes.  She will not be returning next week."

            "I wish I knew what had happened.  Why would she have gone to Voldemort?  None of her family is associated with him."  Severus hated being wrong about anything, but most about his estimation of people.

            Professor Morrigan snorted.  "You mean you didn't know?"

            He looked at her, frowning, "Well, of course _you_ suspected, woman!  You could read her mind."

            "I didn't have to read her mind."  Aislyn smiled sympathetically.  Her heart went out to the girl.  "Her family died in a train accident.  She was alone, and she believed herself in love with someone who would never return her affections."

            "You mean to tell me that this girl has joined Voldemort because of a _boy?"  Snape rolled his eyes.  Teenage girls baffled him to no end._

            "Not a boy, Severus.  A man.  She believed that this man would notice her if she joined.  She believed him to be a Death Eater.  And then, not only did he not notice her affections, he insulted her rather cruelly in class one day."

            Albus caught on quickly, "And she decided to get revenge."

            Aislyn nodded.  Snape was looking back and forth between them, confused.  Surely not!

            "You mean," he sputtered, "You actually mean that this girl had a crush on _me_?  Girls do not get crushes on me, Professor.  I'm just the evil, mean, slimy, oily-haired Potions Master that was likely birthed by a vampire."

            Aislyn smiled, "So you do know what they say about you."

            "How could I not?"

            "And yet, you do not realize that there is a large percentage of the female population and only slightly smaller percentage of the male population that believes that you have beautiful eyes, a silky voice, and elegant hands?"  

            Albus had leaned back in his chair, his hands clasped and his thumbs twiddling, and was gazing at the ceiling as if it were the most interesting thing he had ever seen.

            "But they're supposed to hate me!"

            "What do you expect, Severus?"  Aislyn was grinning, "You're the only adult male in this castle who isn't ancient, abnormally large and grizzly, a disgustingly ill-kempt Squib, or a ghost."

            Snape looked at the headmaster, desperately wanting assistance here.  Albus continued to stare at the ceiling, his eyes twinkling.

            "So it's only because I'm the most eligible professor?" He was a bit relieved.  It was just not possible for him to actually be found attractive by females.

            "No.  That has a bit to do with it, but in general, it's because you're intriguing, a mystery."  Aislyn continued to explain, "And sexy as hell."

            "Whatever."  He didn't believe a word.

            The headmaster seemed to wake up, looking back at the two of them.

            "Now that that's settled."  Albus said, knowing all too well that nothing was in the least bit settled, "Do you think, Severus, that the little ruse still is in play?  Does Riddle believe you dead?"

            "It only worked long enough to get me out of there."  He looked at Aislyn, subtly thanking her before continuing, "He knew the moment I awoke this morning, thanks to this."  He motioned toward the mark on his forearm.  "And it's already itching.  If I don't go, he will use it to slowly drive me mad.  And if I do go, I'll never come back."  Snape looked as if he were quite willing to take that option.  It was certainly better than having to endure countless hours of torture.

            "I think I know a way to get past that,"  Aislyn said.

            "How?  There are no potions or spells to counter the effects of the Mark."

            "I think that I can dull the pain, if you'll allow it."

            "Very well, then," Albus smiled, relaxed again, "You will not go if he calls, Severus."

            Snape nodded, but didn't quite believe the girl's assurances.  "There is one other problem."

            "Riddle will change his plans because he now knows that we suspect him."  Albus said, nodding.  He knew all too well the implications of Snape's exposure, "And now he will enlist one of the students to disable Harry."

            Snape's frown grew.  That boy was nothing but trouble, but even he was able to admit that he was necessary.  He was, unfortunately, probably the only chance they had.  

            "Potter must be protected at all costs."

**********

            The morning after Yule, Draco walked to the Great Hall in unusually high spirits.  He sat in the chair that had become designated as his at the Gryffindor table.  

            "Ferret."  Ron greeted him.

            "Weasel."  Draco nodded back.

            Harry had his head buried in his arms.  "I am going to kill Fred and George."  

            "Really, Harry, it wasn't all that potent."  Hermione pointed out.  Harry rolled his head over to glare at her.

            "Well," Ron added, "Think of it this way, Malfoy can't even beat you when you're drunk and he's on a better broom."

            Draco snarled.

            "Yes, but Draco didn't fall off his broom, did he?"  Harry whined.

            "And, to correct your assumption, Weasel, I would have won if your family hadn't distracted me with their idiocy."  Draco asserted.

            "Oh, don't worry, Harry."  Hermione said, patting her raven-haired friend on the shoulder and completely ignoring Draco. "You didn't make that big a fool of yourself.  It was really rather cute."

            "Well, at least until you fell into Malfoy's arms.  That was a picture I could have done without."  Ron said, shaking his head.

            "Well, for once we agree, Weasley." Draco said,  "It was an experience that I could definitely have done without."  

            "Draco?" Harry said.

            "Yes?"

            "Shut up."

**********

            When classes began again, a small group of students did not return to their usual schedules.  At the time that they would ordinarily have begun their first class, this group stood in a dark, empty classroom wondering why they had been asked to come.  They knew nothing beyond the fact that there were new courses being offered.  All of the students in the classroom were seventh year, except for one.  She stood beside her brother and his friends, certain that she had been invited by mistake.  Draco stood apart from everyone else, leaning against a wall, and observing the Gryffindor trio (plus Ginny) in silence.  He already suspected the purpose for this, and by the serious expression on Potter's face, he knew that the other boy did too.  Harry was not listening to the conversation of the others.  He was staring into space, lost in thought.  Then suddenly, he turned his head.  Green eyes locked with silver.  Harry nodded.  He, at least, would not question Draco's presence in this group.  Unfortunately, Draco was already questioning it himself.

            Professors Snape and Morrigan walked into the classroom, being unusually civil toward one another.  They were followed by Dumbledore.  Draco thought that he saw a familiar black dog sitting outside the doorway.

            Dumbledore cleared his throat.  The group of students ceased all conversation and turned to look at him.

            "I am sure you are all a bit curious about why you have been asked to come here this morning."  The students nodded and made general sounds of assent, "Yes, well, you are all the best students from each house.  We have brought you here because the best is what we need."

            Draco looked over at Weasley.  He highly doubted that the red-head was one of the 'best.'

            "You each have different talents, but all of those talents are highly important to what we are going to ask you to do.  If you accept everything that I am about to tell you, none of you will return to your classes for the remainder of the year.  Instead, you will be taught together, here in this classroom.  You will be learning how to fight a war."

            Harry took a deep breath, but maintained eye contact with the headmaster.  

            "You will be taught by all of the teachers in this school, but most of the classes will be headed by one of three people, and often by two or all of these three together.  They will be Severus Snape, Aislyn Morrigan, and Sirius Black."  He stopped for the indignant voices of those unaware of Sirius's innocence to cease, then continued, "I would not place you in the hands of a dangerous person.  I assure you that, despite rumors and evidence to the contrary, neither Black nor Snape has any true ties to Voldemort."

            Most of the class breathed a sigh of relief.  Hearing that, Sirius bounded into the classroom and changed into human form, but not before snapping at Snape's ankles.

            "We have information that Voldemort will attack the school.  The information that we have implies that he will attack during graduation.  However, this information has been compromised, due to the fact that our spy, Professor Snape, has been exposed."

            Most of the classroom gasped at the information that Snape had been working both sides.  They looked at him with a new respect.  This man had faced Voldemort.  Had lied to him.  Had somehow managed to live.

            "We now do not know when this attack will occur, although we expect that it will be sooner rather than later."  Dumbledore continued.  

            At this, Harry spoke up.  "It will still be at graduation.  Voldemort knew that we would expect him to change it, and so he decided to keep the plans the same."

            Ron murmured, "Your dream, Harry?"

            Harry nodded.  Dumbledore smiled at him.

            "Good, then perhaps we are not as out of the loop as we had thought."  Dumbledore paused to look each student in the eye.  "I will remind you all that should you accept this request, the lives of your friends will be in your hands.  You will be the leaders, the generals.  You will be taking them onto a battlefield.  Many of them, and many of you, could die.  There are, among your peers here at this school, those who will sympathize with Voldemort's cause.  You may find that you are fighting your friends, or even your family."

            Draco closed his eyes, but instead of darkness, he saw the front gardens at Hogwarts littered with bodies in school uniform.  Then, he saw his father advancing on him.  Draco raised his wand, but couldn't bring himself to utter the curse.  It was his father, despite all of the pain that the man had caused him, it was still his father.

            Draco ran from the classroom. He couldn't do it.  He couldn't sit there and take classes knowing that they would expect him to go up against his father.  He ran out into the gardens, not paying attention to where he was going, until he reached the lake.  He sat there, on the shore beside it, looking out at the water but not really seeing it.

************

            Hermione found him there an hour later.  She came and sat beside him, not saying anything.  She just waited for him to talk.

            And talk he did.  He told her of how he had been told, not asked, but _told_, to take the Dark Mark.  How he had hedged, avoided the subject as long as he could.  He told her how his father had come to him, informing him that they had a project for him.  He was to prove his loyalty to Voldemort by injuring Harry.  He was to make sure that Harry would be completely incapacitated.  He was the insurance policy, Lucius had told him.  Voldemort didn't trust Snape to do the job.  And since he already hated Harry, it would be an easy thing to do.

            That had been when Draco had completely refused.  He had shocked his father by refusing him.  For the first time in his life, he had refused him.  And then he had found himself tied to a wall in the basement of Malfoy Manor, being fed broth by a house elf.  His father had broken his leg.  Each night the man had come down and tried some new form of torture on him.  Curses and muggle devices both.  He had seen such hatred in his own father's eyes.

            And yet, he told Hermione, he couldn't kill him.

            She cried.  And she wrapped her arms around him and told him that he had friends now, friends who cared about him.

            Draco sat there in the unfamiliar warmth of the girl's arms and began to cry himself.  Friends, she had said.  He had friends.  One sitting here beside him, giving him the first real hug that he had ever received, and another, standing behind them both, watching.  Draco could almost feel the too-serious emerald gaze of the boy's eyes boring into his back.  

            "Let me talk to him, 'Mione."  Harry said.  His voice was soft and gentle, but commanding.  The girl stood and, nodding at Harry briefly, headed back up to the castle.

            "She was right you know."  Harry said, coming to sit beside him, "We are your friends now.  Even Ron, although he wouldn't admit it."

            "How can you do it, Potter?"  Draco looked over, studying the boy beside him.  "You do realize, don't you, what they are asking you to do?"

            Harry nodded.  He sighed, watching the ripples that the breeze made across the lake.

            "They want me to kill Voldemort."

            "They're going to send you, a seventeen year old boy, out there against He-who-must-not-be-named, Lord of all that is Evil.  And they chose you because of something that you can't even remember doing!"

            "It's what I have to do.  I've known it from the first day that I found out who killed my parents.  I've known for nearly seven years that it would eventually come to this."  A breeze ruffled Harry's hair.  He paid it no mind, continuing to stare out at the water. 

            "Have you ever killed someone, Harry?"

            Harry nodded, but then he looked down at his hands, "Yes, Quirrell, but it was hardly my doing.  It was luck more than anything.  I've never done the…the…"

            "You've never performed Avada Kedavra."

            Harry shook his head.  He looked over at Draco.  Draco could see the fear in his eyes, and behind that the determination.

            "I'll do it, Draco."  Harry said, holding the blonde boy's eyes, "I'll do it because I have to.  I'll do it because he killed my parents.  I'll do it because he killed Cedric.  I'll do it because he took Ginny and used her.  I'll do it because he sent Neville's parents into St. Mungo's.  Just because I've never done it, don't think that I would hesitate when the time comes."

            "I know you will.  But I can't."  Draco looked down at the grass between his feet, "I have none of your Gryffindor bravery, Potter."

            "I know that you don't want to fight Lucius.  Believe me, I understand."  Harry surprised Draco by taking his hand.  "Take the classes, Draco.  I'll feel better knowing that you can defend yourself.  And when the time comes, if you don't want to go out there, don't.  No one will judge you for it."

            Draco looked down at their clasped hands.  Harry's skin was several shades darker than his own.  He wore a ring very similar to the one given to Draco by his mother, except it was a ruby in a gold setting.  Draco ran his thumb over the stone, thoughtfully.

            "Where did you get this ring?"  he asked.

            Harry smiled, "Let's just say I inherited it."

            Draco nodded and turned his hand over, showing Harry his own ring.  "Mum gave me one like it for Yule."

            Harry's eyes widened.  Knowing where his ring had come from, he could easily guess the origins of the other.

            "Draco, do you know what that means?"

            Draco shook his head, "She just said it was for protection."

            "Draco, let's put it this way," he remembered Dumbledore's words at the end of his first year, "Only a true Slytherin could possess that ring."

            "Well, I am a Slytherin, so I guess that makes sense." 

            Harry shook his head, "No Draco.  Think about it for a moment."

            Draco thought, and his eyes widened at the realization, "But I thought that You-Know-Who was…"

            "Dumbledore says that he was only a distant cousin who happened to share a good number of Slytherin's rarer talents.  I share a good number of those same talents as well, but that doesn't make me his heir."

            "But your ring's almost exactly like it. That means that you're…Oh!"

            Harry nodded, "Well, you definitely should take the classes now."  He waved a hand at Hogwarts, "This is our castle.  All of this, it belongs to us.  Our ancestors helped build it.  It's only right that we should defend it."

            "I'll take the bloody classes, Harry, but I still can't guarantee…"

            Harry waved a hand at him, dismissing what he was about to say, "Don't worry about it."

**********

            The two boys walked into the classroom.  Draco noticed Snape's eyes watching him walk toward an empty chair.  The small class had been broken into tiny groups.  The professors were attempting to determine the less obvious abilities of the students.  Snape was sitting at a table with Ron Weasley.  Each was staring at a map, poking little figures of soldiers around with their wands.

            "Well, Mr. Weasley.  I was certain that you would be an abject failure." Snape said, "I suppose that even I can be proven wrong at times.  You do seem to have a rare talent for strategy."

            Ron beamed.  Harry clapped him on the back, "Well, I suppose Satan is giving sleigh rides right about now.  You've just managed to get a compliment out of Professor Snape."

            The class then dispersed from their groups.  Two of the students walked out, following Madame Pomfrey.  Three  walked out with Hagrid and 'Snuffles'.  Nine students were left in the classroom.  Snape and Morrigan stood at the front of the classroom.

            "The class will only be together during a short time every day, specifically for the purposes of planning."  Snape said, explaining, "During all other times, a few of the students will be leaving to do more specialized training that is specific to their talents.  Some will apprentice with Madame Pomfrey to learn medical magic and others will be training in hand-to-hand combat as well as wizard dueling.  You all are still here because you will be the central force.  You will learn dueling as well, among other things, but the curses you will learn here are those which you have before been forbidden to use.  You will be learning the Dark Arts." Snape's face briefly contorted, but he continued.  "You are the strongest young wizards in this school.  You are the ones who can handle it."

            Snape sat down on a stool behind him, his face even paler than usual.  Professor Morrigan looked at him concerned, and quickly looked to the class, "Please, could you take a break?  Come back after lunch." She asked.  Most of the students complied.  Draco went up to the front, concerned.  Harry stayed as well, but hung back.  

            Snape jerked and slid from his stool.  Only the fact that Draco was holding one arm kept him from falling face first onto the floor.  Aislyn pulled back the arm of his robes.  The Mark glared back at her, angry and appearing almost infected.  It was no infection, just the anger and hatred that were causing this.

            "Hold him still, Draco.  It's Him.  He's calling, and Severus has been trying to ignore it all day." Aislyn explained.

            Draco grasped his guardian by each arm, holding the convulsing man as still as he possibly could.  He knew what happened to a Death Eater who ignored the call.  It was worse than Cruciatus.  It could very well take Snape's mind.  He called Harry over to help him, and then he watched as Professor Morrigan grasped Snape's head and looked into the unfocused, blankly staring eyes.

**********

            _"Severus, you have to listen.  You are happy now.  Think about that.  You are happy for the first time in years.  Don't let him take that away."_

Snape stood in total darkness.  He was alone.  He had lost everything.  He had tried so desperately to atone for his past, and he had failed.  Draco dead, Potter dead, Dumbledore dead.  Everyone gone.  Because of him.

            _"No, Severus.  No.  They are here.  Draco is here, and he worries.  He is holding you.  Harry as well.  Everyone is safe.  He's trying to turn your memories to physical pain.  Think on your happiness, not on your guilt.  You have nothing to be guilty for.  Not anymore."_

_            "Who are you?"_

_            "Someone who cares."_

_            "Hurts.  Oh Merlin, it hurts."_

_            "Of course, but you don't have to let it take you.  You can send the pain away.  Just concentrate.  Concentrate on something that feels good.  Concentrate on something beautiful."_

            And so he did.  He concentrated on the last beautiful thing that he remembered.  Long, auburn silk.  Beautiful hair moving through his fingers.

            _"Well, I certainly didn't expect that."_

_            "What?" _a groan, and the mental Severus fell into a fetal position.  The hair was gone.  The pain was back.  But then, a light formed in the darkness.

            _"I didn't expect you to imagine me.  Aren't I just an annoying twit to you, Severus?" A form stepped out of the darkness.  Aislyn, dressed in flowing white, her hair like a flame.  Even through the pain, Severus managed to laugh.  Then the pain intensified.  He was not in darkness any longer.  Now, he was at a Dark Revel, a young girl cowering before him.  He saw himself raising his wand, pointing it at the girl.  He heard the words, he saw her fall._

            _"No!  Come back, Severus!  Don't go into those memories.  You are not that man any longer."_

            _"If I am not that man, then who am I?"_

_            "Remember, Severus.  You have done so many good things.  You chose to change, and you did.  You are a good man." _ The imagined Aislyn took him by the hand, pulling him away from the Dark Revel back into the darkness.  

            _"I don't believe you."_

            _"Then let me show you." The woman-child pulled him forward.  A door appeared in the darkness.  She pulled him through._

            He watched himself, in yet another memory, when he was much younger.  He held a heartbroken girl in his arms.  She was crying, sobbing on his shoulder, because she believed that the man she loved would never notice her.  He knew that she had no reason to cry.  The damned boy had noticed her and wanted her.  He had overheard his rival talking about her.  He didn't want to tell her.  He wanted her to forget that boy.  He wanted her to notice him, not the other.  But he did tell her what he knew.  He advised her to admit her feelings.  He told her that the boy cared for her.  And he watched her leave and had soon afterwards seen her in Potter's arms.  The next thing he had heard was that they were engaged.  

            _"This is supposed to be evidence of my goodness?"_

_            "You loved her.  You wanted her and yet you did not take advantage of her when she was vulnerable."_

_            "A month later, I pledged myself to the Dark Lord."_

_            "And when he killed her, you went to Dumbledore with all that you knew.  You have helped her son in much the same way that she once helped you."_

            The surroundings changed.  He was in the forest.  A muggle girl stood before him, her clothes in shreds.  She must have been about thirteen.  He could hear the sounds of the Death Eaters in the distance.  He wrapped a cloak around her, telling her to go before they found her.  She ran.

            _"I never had any stomach for the Revels."_

_            "You saved that girl's life."_

_            "I nearly lost my own for doing it."_

_            "And yet you did."  _The room changed again.  It was suddenly filled with people.  They were all people that he had seen before, somewhere, but he only recognized a few.  _"These are the people who are alive because of you, Severus."_

_            "And yet, not one of them cares."_

_            "There are people who care about you.  People you have helped."_

_            "Like who?"_

The room dissolved.  It was his office now, decorated as it was this year.  He watched as Malfoy ran into his office, shutting the door behind him.  His memory-self bent over the boy, questioning him.  He watched the conversation between the two of them, and then watched himself help Draco through the door.

            _"You are that boy's father now, don't you see?  He even asked for you to be his guardian.  He trusts you, Severus, and for him that's a difficult thing to do."_

_            "He's a good boy."_

_            "Thanks to you."_

_            "He'll leave.  He'll graduate and then he won't need a guardian.  I'll only be alone again."_

_            "No.  He's family for you now.  And even if he did leave you, there are others who would not."_

_            "Like who?  Everyone hates me."_

            She took his hand again.  She pulled him back to the darkness.  Except, it was no longer darkness.  It was no longer cold.  It was filled with soft, warm light.  

            _"I don't hate you, Severus.  I never did.  And no one else does either."  The dream-Aislyn smiled, __"Well, maybe You-Know-Who does, but he doesn't count."_

            _"It still hurts."  It did hurt, badly.  The memories of his guilt threatened to crash in on him, but they seemed to be held back by the light.  They could not get in.  They could hurt him, but they could not take him._

_            "It always will hurt, Severus.  But you are happy now.  You could be even happier, if you allowed yourself to be.  There are people who love you, Severus."  _She kissed him softly on the lips.  The pain died.

**********

            Snape's eyes had drifted closed, and Draco began to panic.  Professor Morrigan had collapsed against Snape's chest.  Harry looked across the two bodies at Draco, questions in his eyes.

            "Maybe we should get Dumbledore."

            Snape's head shot back and he let out a low moan.  Aislyn stiffened, and tears began to fall down her cheek.  She did not wake.

            "It shouldn't be affecting the both of them." Draco said, "It's You-Know-Who.  He's manipulating the Mark."

            "What the hell was Morrigan trying to do?"

            "I haven't a clue, Potter."

            Snape's eyes opened.  He raised his head to look down at the two boys holding him and the girl unconscious across him.  The boys let him go.

            "Are you okay, Sev?"  Draco asked, concerned.

            "I'll live.  Aislyn…"  Snape put a hand on her head.  She was breathing slowly but steadily.  "She must have exhausted herself."  He sat up, pulling her against him.  He brushed her hair from her face.  Her eyes opened slowly.

            "It worked."

            Snape nodded.

            "I was worried that it wouldn't."  She raised a hand, cupping Snape's cheek gently.  "I couldn't lose you."

            Draco pulled Harry toward the door, completely ignored by the two professors.  

            "Did you mean what you said in my dream?"

            She nodded.

            "Everything?"

            In answer, she wound her fingers in his hair and pulled his head down to hers.  Dumbledore found them like that moments later, having been alerted to the incident by the students.  He just left them there, smiling as he walked away.  Severus deserved to be happy.  He was quite certain that his 'niece' would do just that.  


End file.
